How it Happened is Irrelevant (Mabbell)

15

TJ's POV:

I'd stolen one of the sets of Roberts drum sticks and was currently drumming out a patterned beat on the side of a random building that was covered in graffiti. Anyone passing by would be surprised if I wasn't doing this for a photoshoot or something, but I really wasn't. The sad truth is that I'd run away. 

I can't believe that Craig would accuse me of harboring illegal drugs. Apparently, some had been found in my pillow. I knew about that, and I was going to throw them away, but I just kind of forgot. What I didn't think that it was going to be a pot and kettle situation. I mean, fuck that, right? How dare Max accuse me of being high when a few months ago he'd never pass a sobriety test?

I guess I should feel good about how much my friends worry about me, but it'd be nice to be trusted once in a while. And yes, I was harboring illegal drugs. But so fucking what? What difference does it make what I do with my life. I'd found them after I'd had that really strong drink. They weren't mine. Hell, they were probably Thrash's. He should be the one getting punished here.

I don't know how to hurt Craig though. I don't know how to show him that he shouldn't have accused me of such a thing. So I took the child's way out. I ran away. I took a set of Robert's drum sticks, a box of cigarettes, some matches, one guitar pick, and I ran away. Of course, I would show up to the venue when it was time for that to happen, but I was on my own until then. 

Also, I'd taken my phone but turned off all of the location services. 

"Found you," Kevin said, approaching me. 

"You set me up!" I accused him, dropping the drums sticks and pinning him against the wall that I'd been tapping against. 

He held his hands up in innocence. "You wanted attention. I didn't think that you'd ever actually find the drugs, much less keep them inside your pillow. Who does that?"

"I wanted attention for the right reasons. Not because I have drug issues. How could you be that stupid?!"

"Would you fucking listen to me and stop being angry for a second?!" I let him go, but only for the next sentence that he said. "I explained everything, okay?"

"What exactly did you 'explain?'" I couldn't keep the edge out of my voice. I was pissed.

"I explained that the drugs weren't yours. I lied and said that you'd found them after a show and were going to throw them away, but didn't know how to properly dispose of them."

"You really painted me out to be a hero, didn't you?"

"What would you rather I had done? Tell the truth?"

"Touché," I sighed. "So if no one has any problems with me, why is it that you showed up and not Craig or Max?"

"We've been looking for you. You're a surprisingly difficult guy to track down."

"Just follow the crowds of screaming fans," I joked. "They usually know where I am."

"They're also the reason why Craig couldn't find you." He smiled. "Now please come back."

"I'm not eight," I told him. "I can survive on my own."

"I know, but Robert's...." He pointed to the drum sticks that I'd dropped. "If I don't give those back, you know what he'll do to you?"

I rolled my eyes and picked the sticks up, giving them to Thrasher. "Go and give them back to the man."

"Are you coming?"

I shook my head. "Not yet. I'll see you at soundcheck."

He tutted. "Alright then."

"I FOUND HIM!!" A voice shouted. Instinctively, I wanted to run away more. And because I really didn't know who was shouting at me, I did. I ran more and more. I ran until I didn't know where I was. Granted, I didn't know Atlanta very well at all, but I don't think I was in the city anymore. I was at some hotel on the corner of a road that was busy as hell. Or at least I was across the street from it. How far had I gone?

I found someone smoking on the corner, waiting to cross the street. I quickly ran up to them and tapped their shoulder. "Where am I?" I asked.

They turned around and looked me over. "Emo freak," they said, turning back. 

I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration. "You're not so hot yourself! Now tell me where the fuck I am!"

"You think you're so special. You think you know how the world treats people like you just because a few kids call you out on Twitter."

"I'm twenty-five, I know how the world treats people like me."

"And I'm forty-seven. I think I know a little more than you how they treat people like you." He pointed to me. "You've got that flat-ironed hair and those ripped skinny jeans and those little tats because you think they make you look so badass. You think you're a big rock star. But you know what? When you're not beautiful, they'll just move on the the next person with flat-ironed hair an ripped skinny jeans and little tats."

"I've got plenty of friends."

"Do you now? Then why are you here alone." He looked me over. "What do you have in your pocket? The latest iPhone? Why don't you use that to call one of them? Or can't you?"

"Listen, dude, I don't know who pissed in your cup of coffee this morning, but I'm not gonna be a miserable fuck just because you say that I should be!"

"Great then, have it your way." He turned away from me once more. What a dick. 

"There you are," A voice said, sounding like it was right next to me. "I've been looking everywhere."

"I was gonna show up to sound check," I crossed my arms. "You've stooped pretty low. I thought you trusted me."

"I shouldn't have accused you of that," He sighed. I looked at him and saw that it was Craig. I probably would have been disappointed if it was Max, so I was grateful. "Now would you stop talking to assholes who lost their dreams and come with me." He took my hand and I think I stopped breathing. "What's wrong?" He asked me.

"You- You never- You-" I looked at my fingers, which Craig had laced with his. 

"Oh fuck," He muttered letting me go. I still didn't follow him. "Will you follow me? No one else is gonna know where we went."

"Where are you taking me?"

He grabbed my hand again. "To Heaven."